


This Party Sucks

by SerenityFalconNormandy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:59:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityFalconNormandy/pseuds/SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Drabble CollectionThree parties that the Warden, Champion, and Inquisitor attended, based around the prompt: Red, laughter, a pause, steel.Spoiler alert: They didn't have fun.





	This Party Sucks

She sat at the table, wedged between some comte from Churneau, and a minor cousin from the distaff side of a lord’s family from Val Foret. Their laughter grated her nerves, their cologne choked her. Gwyneth dug her nails into her palms, keeping the diplomatic smile plastered on her face.

 

The pain in her palms gave her something to focus on other than this sham of a trade talk. The Duke and his mistress were polite enough in private, though Gwyn got the distinct impression the other mage was attempting to manipulate her for something. The others had come to see the ‘Fereldan doglord’s rabbit Chancellor’.

 

Just remembering the insult whispered by the Grand Duke Gaspard when she had taken her place at the table made red spots bloom on her cheeks. No one had spoken in her defense, or batted an eye.

 

There was a pause in the conversation, Enchanter Vivienne’s voice smooth and cajoling, like she was talking to a petulant child or particularly slow apprentice, “Lady Gwyneth, are you quite well?”

 

Steel in her backbone and her voice, Gwyn responded, “I am quite well, Enchanter. Orlesian inhospitality is, like many things in Orlais, second to none.”

 

* * *

  
  


Marian’s quiet laughter as they turned around the dance floor was music from the Maker. Even though she was standing on his feet so he could move the both of them, thankfully hidden by the skirts of her gown, they were the most graceful couple on the floor currently. 

  
The others kept bumping into each other, not paying attention as necks craned to gawk at the Champion dancing with an elf. The red scrap Fenris had worn for nigh-on three years was tucked safely under his sleeve, away from the prying eyes surrounding them. He wished… he prayed that when Danarius was dead, she would still hold him in her heart as he did her. 

 

She stiffened in his arms, and he paused, drawing them to the side of the dance floor.

 

“Marian?”

 

Stepping off his feet, Marian gave a shallow curtsy, “Knight-Commander.”

 

He turned.

 

Even for First Day, Meredith had not eschewed her Templar armor, and the steel at her waist was neither ceremonial nor peace-bonded. Fenris stepped slightly in front of Marian to guard position, and bowed, though he didn’t speak.

 

“Champion.” Meredith’s smile was thin-was that a glint of red in her eyes? “Enjoying the ball?”

 

* * *

  
  


The mocking laughter that had been thrown at her earlier in the evening still rang in Fen’lath’s ears as she approached Florianne. She almost felt sorry for her, but she had seen what would have happened if the Inquisition had not interfered. Redcliffe would always haunt her. Florianne had sided with Corypheus for power, nothing else, with no thought of anyone but herself. 

 

“At least  _ this _ time, justice will be swift.”

 

She could see Solas in her peripheral vision, the disapproving tension around his mouth, eyes gone a shade of steel. He hadn’t seen what she had; he hadn’t  _ lived _ through that shattered future. The memory of the red lyrium crackling in his voice, of him being gutted by one of Corypheus’s minions, drove her forward.

 

Florianne’s eyes widened, and all conversation paused when Fen’s blade flashed from the sheath hidden in the back of her gown. Fen drove it up and in, giving Florianne a far swifter death than she deserved. 

 

The ghosts of Redcliffe crowded around Fen as she turned to Celene, eyes hard and only just keeping the sneer from her voice, “Your Imperial Majesty, I think we should speak in private. Elsewhere.”


End file.
